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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974970">ribbon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfulchihuahua0602/pseuds/sinfulchihuahua0602'>sinfulchihuahua0602</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>twelve days of winter whumperland [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III Whump, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Sexual Bondage, Panic Attacks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:09:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974970</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfulchihuahua0602/pseuds/sinfulchihuahua0602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This twelve-day prompt series follows Hiccup's captivity with Viggo, and is meant to be read in order.</p><p>day 1: <i>holiday restraints</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Viggo Grimborn/Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>twelve days of winter whumperland [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ribbon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hiccup wakes from his uneasy sleep to the door of his cell being opened and light streaming through. He blinks at it, shivering on the cold stone floor. The light illuminates the silhouette of Viggo as he walks into the small room, stride confident and easy. </p><p> </p><p>Hiccup sighs, pulling himself to a sitting position. He’s been here for two months already, subject to Viggo’s strange obsession with him, and he feels like he’s losing his mind. Viggo hasn’t hurt him or tortured him, has only touched him and spoke to him. Fleeting touches, heavy touches, words that are sharp and soft and somewhere in between. The fact that he’s returned to his cell every time Viggo finishes with him is the only thing that reminds Hiccup that this isn’t Viggo, that he can’t fall for the strange kindnesses and compassion. Yet, he finds himself closer and closer every day, desperately wishing to just give in and revel in it, to get whatever it was that Viggo promised him if he was good. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo crouches in front of him, strange warmth in his eyes. “How are you, my dear Hiccup?” he asks. </p><p> </p><p>Hiccup pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them, glaring at him. “How do you think I feel, Viggo? You are the one locking me in this cell every night,” he answers sarcastically. </p><p> </p><p>The same icy feeling rises in Hiccup when he sees Viggo’s mouth twist into a smile. His sarcasm is a defense mechanism; he’s in control when he can rile his enemy up, can make them angry, but none of it works on Viggo. Viggo is as unflappable as anyone he’s ever met in the face of Hiccup’s biting sarcasm, and an equal to his intellect. He’s made it impossible for Hiccup to escape. Hiccup’s control is lost, he’s the vulnerable one here and Viggo takes full advantage of that. Hiccup thinks he can feel himself slipping more and more every day, into the kindnesses and pleasure Viggo makes him feel. </p><p> </p><p>“Feeling well, then, I assume,” Viggo replies, smirking and straightening. Hiccup’s mouth flattens into a thin line and his jaw tightens, glaring up at Viggo as he turns and walks to the door. “Breakfast is in five. I expect to see you there.”</p><p> </p><p>He leaves, the door left open behind him. Hiccup groans, thudding his head back against the wall hard. It sends a dull thud through his skull, grounding Hiccup and reminding him that he can’t give in. Pain is pain, whether physical or mental or emotional. This is pain, though he can’t see it. </p><p> </p><p>In two minutes, he stands up and walks out to the dining room in the silky robe and underwear Viggo <em> allows </em>him to wear, like he’s some sort of pet or something. He supposes he is, to Viggo, because there’s also a thin red leather collar around his neck. The first time Hiccup had refused to come to meals on time, Viggo had tied him up suspended in the air, head drawn back by the collar until it hurt, blindfolded him, put some kind of device over his head that canceled noise, and left him there until time dragged on and Hiccup was pleading to get out despite the fact he couldn’t hear himself. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t refused a meal since, dreading going back to that isolation, that feeling of nothingness characterized only by the pain in his neck and the ropes biting into his skin, and he grew numb to even those until he thought he didn’t have a body, unable to move it and suspended as he was. He learned his lesson well, though meals were one-sided affairs on Viggo’s end and Hiccup couldn’t decide whether to drag out his warm, inviting conversation to delay the new torment Viggo had planned, or cut the meal short and invite the torment sooner. </p><p> </p><p>Today, he drags out the meal, despite the fact that Viggo has somehow found a way to talk to him in a manner that Hiccup can’t tune out for longer than two minutes. He’s tried, multiple times, but Viggo always makes some sort of noise or changes his voice enough to engage Hiccup back in the conversation, helplessly latching on to anything other than the thoughts of his bleak future when he gets time to think alone. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo stands when Hiccup finishes. “Come, my dear. To the living room.”</p><p> </p><p>Hiccup stares at him, then just nods. He’s past the point of fighting over petty things - maybe he can gain Viggo’s trust enough to escape in the future, but currently he has no chance of escaping and he’d rather not bring more pain upon himself by fighting uselessly. </p><p> </p><p>So he follows Viggo, and stops in the doorway when he sees the candles scattered around the room, the roll of emerald green ribbon in Viggo’s hands. He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you celebrated Snoggletog, Viggo,” he says, glancing at him. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo smirks. “I have reason to celebrate this year. Come here.”</p><p> </p><p>Hiccup frowns, warily taking a few steps forward. He really has no other choice, he knows he’s going to have to do whatever it is Viggo wants eventually, but he doesn’t want to walk into it so easily. It’s the principle of the fight, he thinks, even if he feels like the argument is weak and he’s losing his mind more and more as he keeps being complacent to Viggo. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo smiles. “Robe off, my dear.”</p><p> </p><p>Hiccup’s stomach drops and he shakes his head. He can deal with everything Viggo gives him, can deal with pain, but- when Viggo does this, when he gives him pleasure, he feels himself slip further. At his darkest depths, Hiccup can feel his sanity hanging on by a few thin threads, and in the throes of Viggo’s expertly given pleasure, he fears how easy it will be to snap them. The worst part is, Viggo hasn’t even touched between his legs, hasn’t even kissed him. It’s all been touches that could be disguised as platonic, done in such a sensual, lingering way that Hiccup can’t help but find it pleasurable. </p><p> </p><p>He hates it so very much, and he loves it. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo’s eyes darken and Hiccup feels his breaths come shorter. He can’t escape this, can’t stop Viggo from doing whatever it is he wants, and if he fights he’ll hurt him, he’ll hurt him so much-</p><p> </p><p>Hiccup extends his arms, shrugging his shoulders, somehow going suddenly numb. The robe slides off smoothly, pooling on the floor at his feet in a heap of soft red satin fabric. Hiccup’s breaths are still coming short, but he’s a bit detached from it all, a little numbly distanced as Viggo’s smile widens and his eyes roam down Hiccup’s body. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe today is the day, Hiccup thinks. Maybe Viggo will finally decide he <em> wants </em> him. </p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Viggo purrs, walking forward. Hiccup shivers at the praise for reasons he doesn’t know, and he can already feel himself slipping into that strange mindset he gets when Viggo touches him. A kind of hazy, fuzzy thing, where time is strange and he can barely think, focused entirely on Viggo and what he’s doing to him, where it’s so easy to snap the few threads of fight he has left. It scares him, that mindset, but he can’t stop it. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo’s hands skimming his wrists brings Hiccup back to his body, feeling every calloused touch like a brand on his skin as Viggo walks behind him and presses his warmth against him. Hiccup shivers again, staring down at the ground. His mind battles between being detached and numb, knowing he can’t fight this and hating that he can’t make himself move to do anything, and the hazy state that’s creeping in on his consciousness.</p><p> </p><p>Viggo takes Hiccup’s wrists loosely, pulling his arms to his sides and positioning them so his wrists brush over his ass. The satin ribbon comes next, gliding so sensually over Hiccup’s skin that he almost leans into it before stopping himself and holding himself tense and rigid. He won’t give in so easily, he thinks. He may not be able to stop it, but he can’t simply give in. </p><p> </p><p>A dark part of his mind asks him how he hasn’t already given in, by standing still and allowing it. Hiccup shoves it away. </p><p> </p><p>Ribbon crosses in intricate patterns over his arms and chest and around them, twining them together and pinning his arms to his sides. When Viggo reaches Hiccup’s shoulders and starts to trail the ribbon further over his chest, the hazy state breaks and Hiccup’s breaths suddenly come short, his vision tunneling. He sways a little on his feet, adrenaline suddenly bursting through him - Viggo’s touches are too much, too much, he can’t <em> breathe, </em> he needs it to stop - and, embarrassingly, all that leaves his throat is a broken whimper, an onslaught of emotion and pain and despair crashing through him, he’s going to <em> die- </em></p><p> </p><p>“Relax, my dear,” Viggo says quietly, in that low rumble he has. His hands skim up and down Hiccup’s arms lightly, impossibly gentle, always <em> gentle. </em>Hiccup can’t stop the emotions, starting to tremble a little where he stands, breaths still coming short. He wonders with another bout of helpless panic when he decided Viggo’s touches and words were comforting, when they became something to lean into rather than away from. </p><p> </p><p>Time seems to disappear, and it feels like forever until the panic recedes, Viggo’s hands never ceasing their rhythmic motions up and down his arms. Hiccup pulls in a deep breath that shakes as he exhales, meeting Viggo’s eyes with his own wide ones as Viggo steps in front of him. “Back with me?”</p><p> </p><p>Hiccup takes another breath and exhales shakily. He nods wordlessly, and Viggo continues wrapping the ribbon around him. Hiccup trembles the entire time, unable to keep himself still, stuck somewhere between panic and calm, his mind racing with no real, coherent thoughts. He knows he can’t fight, he knows there’s Hunters everywhere when he goes outside and no way for him to escape, he <em> knows </em> Viggo will only hurt him if he tries. And he also knows he wants to fight, that this is <em> too much </em> and he wants nothing more than to shove Viggo away from him. He trembles with the panic and the adrenaline that he forces down, barely keeping still as Viggo continues wrapping his body up in ribbon - <em> like a present, </em>he thinks suddenly, and the effort to stop himself from shoving Viggo away increases tenfold. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo walks Hiccup over to the center of the room; the candles are bright and there’s a few plant decorations hung up around the room. <em> Have to be festive for Snoggletog, </em>Hiccup thinks sarcastically. There’s an edge of hysteria to it as he feels Viggo tie something behind him, his breaths steady but forced, barely able to be kept from nearly hyperventilating. Ribbon wraps around his legs next, even around his metal prosthetic, in complex patterns. Hiccup tries not to think about Viggo’s callused fingers grazing his hips.</p><p> </p><p>Viggo steps back, gaze raking over Hiccup with undisguised lust. Hiccup realizes his position suddenly, acutely feeling the soft glide of silk over his skin and every place the ribbon touches him. His arms are pinned to his sides, a slight pressure on his back and down near his ass as if he’s tied there. Hiccup looks down at himself, seeing the ribbon crisscrossing his skin, emerald green in bright contrast against the pale color, and then looks back to see just as bright green rope tied to the ribbon harness and leading up to a ring in the ceiling. He’s not quite suspended, but he can’t move from where he is, and his legs are tied so all he can do is stand, entirely at Viggo’s mercy. </p><p> </p><p>“You make a beautiful decoration, my dear,” Viggo compliments in a low purr, smirking when Hiccup’s head whips around back towards him and his face heats. He glares at Viggo through the embarrassment. </p><p> </p><p>“This is not what I had in mind for Snoggletog festivities, Viggo,” he growls, squirming and tugging at the ribbon. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo’s eyes scan down his body again and Hiccup feels so vulnerable like this - he wonders why that’s even a thing for him, all he wears is that damned robe and Viggo strips it off him often enough, he should be used to this by now. There’s the hazy state at the edge of his consciousness, and the panic thrumming through him, and they battle against each other in a confusing mix of sensations. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo smirks, walking forward. His fingers trail along Hiccup’s shoulder - it feels like fire, though it’s entirely gentle. “This is what <em> I </em>had in mind, however,” he replies. “You’re a work of art like this, and I intend to appreciate you.”</p><p> </p><p>Hiccup squirms against the ribbon, leaning away from Viggo’s touch even as a part of him that longs for touch wants to lean into it. He never gets gentle touches in Berk - Viking affections are rough, even Astrid’s affections are rough, and a part of him is starved for gentle touches and caresses like Viggo is doing now. “Get away from me,” he hisses. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo smiles, fingers tracing the edge of a ribbon gently, ever so <em> damned </em> gently. “The green really brings out your eyes, my dear,” he replies, voice oddly soft and complimentary. His eyes flick up to meet Hiccup’s, amusement in them, and Hiccup’s face heats further. He averts his eyes, shifting uncomfortably in the ribbon, hands curling and uncurling into fists repeatedly. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo is silent, but Hiccup can feel every place his fingers go, tracing down Hiccup’s spine, in the curves of his back. It’s meticulous and slow, intimate in a way Hiccup doesn’t like. It feels like Viggo’s studying him, memorizing him, and Hiccup isn’t used to so much attention. His body isn’t exactly the most desirable in both a romantic and platonic setting, and he’d much rather lavish attention on others than have it lavished on him. </p><p> </p><p>Time stretches in this room with the door closed. Hiccup studies the candles, studies the wall in front of him and the plants decorating it. His panic subsides in the calm, that hazy state creeping in on him until he’s relaxed, focused only on Viggo’s fingers skimming over his skin, his hands brushing his hips and tracing down his thighs and single leg, coming back up just as slowly and just as gently. By the time Viggo makes it back up to his collarbone, after what seems like an eternity, Hiccup can’t think clearly. His mind is fuzzy, his whole body is loose and relaxed and his head hangs down limply, eyes drifting shut. Viggo’s touch feels pleasurable, calluses rough on his skin in just the right way, his whole body leaning towards the gentle touches like a flower to sunlight that it’s been starved for. </p><p> </p><p>Hiccup feels his fingers under his chin, tilting his head up, and he forces his eyes open through the fuzziness to see Viggo’s gaze focused intently on his face. His other hand trails up his neck, feather-light, tracing his jaw and brushing his thumb over Hiccup’s cheek. Hiccup watches Viggo’s eyes follow his hand, fingers moving slowly up to Hiccup’s nose and further up to his forehead, over his eyebrows, brushing his hair from his face ever so gently. Hiccup can’t remember why he ever fought against this; this is bliss, this is pure pleasure and he wants nothing more than to be able to sink into it whenever he wants. </p><p> </p><p>Viggo’s hand slips down to cup his jaw, the hand holding his chin dropping and his fingers smoothly sweeping underneath to hold Hiccup’s head up. His thumb comes up, brushing over his bottom lip. Hiccup’s eyes flutter shut, limp in the ribbon, and Viggo’s voice feels like his touch, rough and soft at the same time. “Sleep, my dear. I’ll be back in the morning.”</p><p><br/>Hiccup only hums, suddenly realizing he <em> is </em>tired when Viggo’s hands fall away and his head slumps down. He doesn’t register the door opening and closing, or that he’s still tied up like a present for Viggo, only that he’s exhausted, and it’s all too easy for him to slip into unconsciousness.</p>
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